


Fanning Burgeoning Flames

by Orange_Coyote



Series: We Found Love [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, First Dates, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Nervous Dean Winchester, Rated T for language, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 15:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20509409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orange_Coyote/pseuds/Orange_Coyote
Summary: Dean and Castiel meet up to share those free drinks Cas promised him.





	Fanning Burgeoning Flames

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of the story "We Found Love In A Movie Theater."  
While this can probably be understood as a standalone fic, it would make a little more sense if you read the other story first.

It’s been an hour and a half since Dean left the theater, his mind focused primarily on what he should wear for his impromptu date. He’d already tried and discarded three outfits he hasn’t yet worn this week, which leaves him with a predicament. Why is he worrying so much about it anyway? It’s not like Castiel dressed like some supermodel. He hardly knows the man so why was he so preoccupied with making a good impression? With Dean’s luck the date would be shit and he’d never see the other man again.

He puts down the jeans he’d been needlessly staring at for the past five minutes and sighs. The bunker is a twenty minute drive from Bandits, and Dean finds himself wishing he had gone straight to the bar rather than asking Cas to meet up later on. The suspense is killing him. What if Cas ends up being a total creep, or a serial stalker, or something worse? What happens when Dean decides he actually _likes_ someone for the first time in years and the Universe or Fate or whatever bullshit cosmic entity takes Cas away? Wouldn’t be the first time. Or the last, probably.

Dean’s morose thoughts get derailed when Sam peeks his head into the room and tuts loudly. “Dean? You’re not meeting Cas wearing the same outfit you had on at the movies, are you? Come on, man. Even you know better.”

Dean scoffs. “I’m aware, Samantha.”

“Are you…” Sam pauses, his voice laced with disbelief. “Are you _nervous _about your date?”

“Shut up.”

Sam enters the room fully, letting the door fall shut behind him. “It’s okay to be nervous, Dean. I just didn’t expect it of you. Guess I should know better by now.” He lays a hand on his brother’s shoulder, squeezing gently when Dean attempts to buck off the contact before sinking into it. “Need help with what to wear?”

“Like my own personal fairy godmother before the ball?” Dean looks Sam over, blatantly laughing at the loose sweatshirt and tattered sweatpants his brother wears. “Not sure you’re the type to be giving out fashion advice, Sammy.”

Sam rolls his eyes, moving to peruse the clothing options Dean has laid out. He grabs a dark blue button down, a black tee shirt, and black denim bootcut jeans with minimal rips in the fabric. He meets Dean’s raised brows and skeptical gaze with a calm confidence. “Wear this.”

Dean hesitates for a moment, teetering, then takes the offered clothes with a sigh. “This is the first thing I was gonna put on.”

Sam chuckles, walking toward the door with a smile. “If anyone knows they ought to trust their gut, it should be you.”

Dean takes his turn to roll his eyes before pushing Sam out into the hallway. He locks the door this time to prevent further interference, changes into the outfit quickly before looking himself over in the mirror. After a few seconds of running fingers through his hair to make it lay just right, he resigns himself to Sam’s approval.

As soon as he opens the door, Sam steps forward to examine Dean and give his uninvited (but grudgingly appreciated) opinion. Sam has Dean take a slow spin, which Dean grumpily indulges, before smiling and giving two thumbs up. Like the dork he is.

Sam pats the nearest shoulder and says, “Knock ‘em dead, Tiger.”

“Never say that again,” Dean grumbles in reply.

“Better head out now if you don’t want Cas thinking you’re standing him up.”

Dean pats his pockets, ensuring he has his wallet, cell phone, and keys, as he follows Sam to the front door. Sam walks with him to the Impala, leaning over the door once Dean gets situated in the driver’s seat.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

Sam’s eyes soften, the little creases in the corners making an appearance. God, he looks just like Mary when he does that. Dean swallows the lump of emotion pushing at him and smiles at his little brother. The moose isn’t really so little anymore. “Have fun,” Sam says. “I won’t wait up.”

“Yeah, I’ll try.” Sam leans back and waves while Dean drives off. Dean watches through the rear-view mirror for a moment as Sam heads back inside, then focuses his eyes on the road ahead. He has a date to get to.

When was the last time he had a date? Lisa? Dean shakes his head morosely as he rumbles along the small-town streets. Not much traffic on a Tuesday night, not that he’s surprised. Eventually he pulls into Bandits’ parking lot. He looks around as he parks, realizing belatedly he has absolutely zero idea what sort of car Cas drives. _Please _don’t let him be the Prius type. Dean would die.

Bandits is half hole in the wall dive and half sports bar. Dean appreciates the dark cherry wood tables and chairs, the sticky sheen of the bar top. He sits on a stool at the end of the bar nearest to the entrance door, sweeping the room in search of blue eyes and unkempt hair.

“Can I get you anything?’

Dean turns his attention to the bartender. A woman in her late twenties, dressed in tight jeans and a dark green blouse that cinches at the waist. “Got any beer that isn’t swill from the tap?”

She snorts, thankfully, rather than take offense. Dean’s been kicked out of bars for less. “How about a local ale? None of that craft stuff.”

Dean nods gratefully. “Sounds good.”

“I’ll be right back with that, handsome.”

She bustles off to the other side of the bar, where the shelves are lined with bottles of various liquors, above a fridge where Dean assumes they keep bottles of beer and the sundry ingredients needed for cocktails. He watches for a second but soon checks his watch instead. 8:58 pm. Two minutes until the designated meet up time.

Dean scans the room again, this time not only looking for Cas but also taking in the full atmosphere of the place. He used to come here often, back when he and Sam had first moved into the bunker and Dean didn’t quite feel comfortable there just yet. Not much has changed in the months since his last visit. There are now three televisions playing various sports rather than the single TV they’d had previously. But the clientele and the lighting seem the exact same, which helps settle the lightly thrumming anxiety making a home in the pit of his stomach.

The bartender returns with his beer and Dean hands her a few dollar bills in thanks. She lets him know she would be a shout away if he needed anything else, then moves off to cater to a handful of frat boys wearing Oklahoma State basketball jerseys. He doesn’t envy her.

He's halfway finished with his beer, deciding to just call it a bust and head home, when someone taps him lightly on his shoulder. Dean turns, snappy retort on his lips. Now is _not_ the time for some random to be hitting on him. His mouth falls open when his eyes meet Cas’ blue gaze. Up close they resemble the ocean more than the sky, specks of grey hidden within bright blue.

“I must apologize for my tardiness,” Cas says before Dean can utter a sound. “I miscalculated the distance between this establishment and my cousin’s home.”

“Uh, no problem,” Dean manages to say.

Cas sits on the stool beside Dean as if they have known one another their entire lives, his undivided attention beginning to make Dean feel off-kilter. Those eyes are so thoroughly… intense. Dean can’t think of a better word.

“Can I get you anything?”

Dean lets out a breath as the bartender takes Cas’ order: some specialty brew Dean has never heard of. Dean orders himself another of what’s he’s been drinking, having already finished the rest of his beer in the span of time following Cas’ sudden arrival. He has a feeling he’ll need a few before feeling comfortable under Cas’ gaze. Shit, he hasn’t felt this nervous around a date in years.

“I hope you haven’t paid yet,” Cas says once the bartender returns with their drinks. “This is supposed to be on me.”

Dean grins despite himself. He can do flirting. “Think buying me a drink will get me to forgive you for nearly ruining my movie going experience? Sorry, buddy, but I’m not that easy.”

Cas frowns for a millisecond, then smiles from ear to ear. “I would never assume such a thing.”

“Glad to hear it,” Dean chuckles. His feet kick idly against the bar, the soft rhythm anchoring him in spite of the slight awkwardness between himself and Cas. “So. What do you do, Cas?”

“I volunteer at my sister’s daycare center on weekends, but my primary form of employment is managing an all-female rock group.”

Dean gawps. “Which band?”

Cas sips his drink and shrugs, his eyebrows following the direction of his shoulders. “I’m not sure if you would know them? They’re not everyone’s cup of tea.”

“Try me.”

“They’re called Demon Virus.”

“Dude!” Dean nearly chokes on his own saliva between his shock and newfound curiosity. “Charlie, Meg, and Jo are the most badass band in the world right now!”

“So you _have_ heard of them,” Cas says, all pleasant surprise.

“Heard of them? More like I devoured their album the second it released!” Dean feels eyes on him from across the room and conspicuously lowers his voice back to its usual pitch. “Man, that’s so cool. How long have you worked with them?”

“I went to the conservatory with Meg for a year, then realized I was more suited to the business aspect of the industry rather than performing myself. We kept in touch. About a year later she met Jo and Charlie. They hit it off, recorded a demo together. Meg sent it to me, and it was _incredible_. I told her as much. When she said they were going to take a shot at making it big, at making a career together, I asked if I could manage them. We’ve been working our way up the proverbial ladder ever since.” Cas finishes off the last of his beer in his glass and smiles. A genuine smile full of white teeth and pink gums that Dean somehow can‘t look away from. “So, to answer your question more succinctly, I’ve been with them in an official capacity for a few years now.”

“That is awesome.”

“I agree. And what about you, Dean? What do you do?”

Dean shrugs halfheartedly. “Nothing near as cool.”

“Try me.”

“My brother and I run a company together. Security, private investigators, that kind of thing.”

“You must have some interesting stories.”

Dean knows fishing when he sees it, so he figures he’ll toss Cas a bone. “There was this one guy who had people believing their toys were haunted.” Dean swigs the last of his drink as the bartender, whose name they learned as Dana, drops off another round. Dean thanks her as she takes his empty bottle to replace with a full one. “Felt like something straight out of Scooby Doo.”

“That sounds pretty cool, if I may say so.”

“I guess. I’ve grown used to weird stuff. In my line of work either you adapt, or you go insane.”

Cas takes a long sip of his drink, drawing Dean’s eyes to the man’s stubble covered chin. Seemed like the man had permanent five o’clock shadow, but it suits him. Dean’s eyes rove downward, following the line of Castiel’s throat, to where the top button of his shirt sits open, inviting Dean to appreciate strong shoulders and visible collar bones. The soft shade of ivory fabric shows off how tanned the other man’s skin really is. Dean has to remind himself to not drool. With a bit of effort he returns his eyes to Cas’ face, though it doesn’t help much in the don’t drool department.

“I can imagine,” Cas says. It takes a full thirty seconds for Dean to recall the topic at hand. “Let’s just say Meg and Jo have some… avid fans.”

Dean snorts, remembering some of the scandals he had read about on fan forums he sometimes followed up with. Sam never lets him hear the end of it, calling him a gossiping teenager. “I’ve seen a couple of the stories,” Dean says when Cas looks at him curiously.

Cas nods in understanding. “Trust me, those are the tamer ones.”

“Living the life of a rock star without all the perks is basically your job, huh?”

“I’m perfectly happy being on the sidelines. The screaming is more than loud enough from backstage.”

Dean laughs openly at that, belatedly realizing the alcohol content of his esoteric local ale is probably much higher than he would have guessed. As soon as the thought enters his mind, his brain goes pleasantly fuzzy and his boots feel a little heavier. “Uh, sounds like fun.”

“It can be a bit much at times,” Cas admits, “but I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

Dean leans forward, chin cradled in hand, as he asks, “Do you tour with them too?”

“Yes.”

“Must be nice.”

“It’s pleasant, though sometimes I don’t have as much downtime to explore the cities as I would prefer.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Most notably the cities of Sydney and Tokyo.” Cas smiles gently as he says, “I’m tired of talking about myself. What about you, Dean?”

Dean envies the man’s composure. Is he even tipsy _at all?_ He’d been keeping up with Dean, beer for beer. Where did all that alcohol even _go?_ “’S not much to tell.”

“I find that difficult to believe. What got yourself and your brother into the security business?”

“Runs in the family. Dad did it. Uncle Bobby and Aunt Ellen did it. Once Sammy, that’s my brother, finished at Stanford and Dad passed, it seemed like the only thing to do.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Dean shrugs wordlessly, leaning backward a little. Cas’ disarming demeanor and sympathetic eyes remind him a bit too much of the people at his father’s funeral service ten years ago. Men saying what an admirable man John Winchester was, women sniffling and offering to bring food by the house. “It must be hard to be on your own” and “Oh you poor dears, please let me know if you need anything” and all the other useless platitudes that had plagued Dean for months afterward. “It was a long time ago,” he says, to fill the silence that descended, to remind himself all of that is over and done. Cas, clinking his glass onto the bar top, reaches out and lightly touches Dean’s arm, the simple gesture helping to anchor Dean in the present.

“I can’t imagine losing a parent while being so young,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “You are a pillar of strength.”

“Not to be rude, but do you mind if we talk about something else?”

Cas grimaces, probably at his own lack of tact, his concern more genuine than what Dean thought to expect of a virtual stranger. “Of course. I apologize if the subject upsets you.” Dana chooses that moment to swoop in and check on them, asking if they’d like anything else. Dean could have kissed her in gratitude were he not on an overall enjoyable date with one of the most beautiful men he’s ever seen.

Cas looks over at Dean, who shakes his head in response to Dana’s question. Cas pays his own tab and Dean's with minimal fuss, though Dean tried his damndest to pay for at least one of Cas’ drinks. Four rounds seemed a bit above and beyond, but Cas would have none of Dean’s attempted negotiations.

Dean stands slowly, rolling up his shirt sleeves to the elbow and relishing the cool air that hit his heated skin as a result. Either the bar had a tendency of running hot, or he had drunk more than he probably should have.

Cas stands as well, slipping his arms into the trench coat he’d been wearing earlier in the day when they first met. Dean hadn’t noticed it hanging off the bar, not once in the entire time they talked. Because you were so caught up in Mr. Blue Eyes, whispers a voice in his mind that sounded eerily like his Aunt Ellen.

They walk out to the parking lot together in amicable silence, shoulders brushing with every other step seeing as Cas apparently didn’t believe in the concept of personal space. Not that Dean minds it.

Their steps falter in unison once they reach the curb. Dean had parked over on the left, beneath the lone oak tree on the lot. But should he just wish Cas a good night, thank him for the drinks, and go on with his life? Should he want something more? Was Cas interested in something more?

Cas tilts his head to the right. “I parked over there.”

Dean follows with his eyes, noting with distant surprise that Cas’ vehicle is an old Cadillac from the '80s. The Fleetwood model, obviously well cared for, sports an ivory white paint job on the body while the roof stands apart painted a muted black. The rims shine under the street lights, the same color as the roof.

He looks to the left and right, convinced Cas must have been gesturing toward a different car. But other than Dean’s Baby and a beat-up Honda sedan parked next to an equally worn-down Hyundai, there were no other vehicles.

Dean whistles appreciatively, looking over to Cas. “I didn’t peg you as a Cadillac guy.”

Cas barks a laugh. “What type did you peg me as, if I may ask?”

“Something economically efficient, a four door. Maybe a hybrid,” Dean teases.

“If you had met me five years ago, you would have been correct.” Cas explains, “My cousin and one of my brothers, Balthazar and Gabriel, conspired in secret to get me something _cooler_ and ‘less repulsive to any potential lay,’ to quote them verbatim.”

“Can’t say they were wrong.”

“Let me guess, you’re the elder between yourself and Sam.”

Dean smirks. “Sorry, Cas. Us older brothers stick together.”

“I’d love to meet Sam one day and commiserate over our mutually torturous childhoods,” Cas quipped dryly. “Perhaps he and I will start a coalition of our own to sympathize with other younger siblings, since ‘older brothers stick together,’ as you said.”

Dean swallows, all the playfulness of the moment gone. “You wanna meet Sammy?”

Cas squints, something Dean never found adorable before this moment, assessing Dean’s expression before he shrugs. “I wouldn’t mind. Is he the man who was with you at the movie theater?”

“Yeah, the big old lanky nerd. You can’t miss him.”

“I’m sure he feels similarly toward you.”

“Aw, come on now, Cas. Don’t choose my brother’s side without getting to know me a little better first.”

“Alright,” Cas says, and it feels as if the single word weighs a metric ton. “But remember that us younger siblings stick up for one another. It’s a specific plight only a fellow younger brother can truly understand.”

“Sure thing, buddy,” Dean replies with a laugh. He looks down at his watch, surprised by the realization he and Cas had spent the past four and a half hours just talking. “Guess I better get going.”

Cas shuffles next to Dean, leaning from one foot to the other. His gaze sends a thrill from Dean’s scalp straight to his heart. He had no idea if he’d ever grow fully accustomed to those bright blue eyes and the intense focus that comes with their full attention.

“I would like to see you again,” he says softly, his hands migrating to the pockets of his coat. “If you would be amenable to the idea,” he adds quickly.

Dean pushes his hands into his jeans pockets before he ended up doing something stupid like grabbing Cas’ hand and never letting it go. “Yeah. Uh, that sounds good. Great, even.” His right hand runs through his hair of its own accord, pausing on the back of his neck for a second before Dean pulls it away with some effort. He can feel his throat growing hot, which meant soon his cheeks would be flushed as well. Blushing. Another thing Sam would never let Dean live down if he found out about it.

Cas’ expression softens, anxiety replaced with relief. “I’m glad to hear that. Should we plan our next encounter now?”

“You got a phone, Cas?”

“Yes. It makes my job much easier.”

Anyone else saying that and Dean would have taken a bit of offense, but Cas says it so obliviously Dean genuinely believes the man meant no sarcasm in his words.

Dean grins and holds out his hand. “Good. Lemme see it.”

Castiel takes out his phone and passes it to Dean, trusting and with openly curious interest. Dean types for a few minutes with a flourish.

“You might want to put a password on that,” Dean suggests as he hands the device back to its rightful owner. “Wouldn’t want any crazy fans getting a hold of Meg or Charlie or Jo’s private numbers.”

“You make a valid point.” Cas looks down at the screen, a one-sided text conversation between himself and an unsaved contact beaming back at him. He looks back up at Dean and smiles. After a moment he stiffens, thinking of Dean’s offhand comment. “Please tell me you didn’t look at my contacts.”

Dean lifts a hand to his chest, face a mask of disbelief. “You think so lowly of me, Cas? I would never.” Then he smiles, what Sam likes to call his “southern gentleman” look. “I like to think I can earn your trust, and maybe even the friendship of three of the coolest women on the planet, without resorting to any nefarious actions on my part.”

Cas shakes his head, a small twitch of his lips giving away his repressed amusement. “You are ridiculous, Dean.”

“And yet you’re still here, basking in my presence and company.”

Cas looks down and types something into his phone. A second later Dean hears a muffled _ding_ emanate from his back pocket. He pulls out his phone, unlocking it and opening up the message Cas just so obviously sent. He laughs aloud at the single word.

He glances up at Cas, lifting an eyebrow in feigned arrogance, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’m an assbutt, am I?” He shrugs when Cas nods. “Could be worse.”

“I’ll text you when I arrive home,” Cas says.

“And we’ll work something out for our next hang,” Dean agrees. “Will that work for you?”

“Before that, I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Is this proposed meeting just two men hanging out as friends?” Cas asks hesitantly. “Or is it… something with the intention of a more intimate relationship in the future?”

“Cas,” Dean exhales, trying to decipher if he had misread the situation. “Do you not want it to be a date?”

“I… I do. Yes,” Cas asserts. “Do you?”

“Well then, looks like it’s a date.”

The beaming grin on Cas’ face makes Dean’s hour of panicking prior to leaving his home, with every second of Sam’s smug smiles and knowing glances, wholly worthwhile.

“I look forward to it,” Cas assures him.

Dean smiles back, enjoying the moment. A door slams and Dean looks over to see Dana sliding out of her parking space, giving the two men a friendly wave as her Hyundai passes them. “Should probably head out,” he says to Cas for the second time. “Seriously, this time,” he adds sheepishly.

“Have a good night, Dean.” With a swish of his coat, Cas walks toward his car.

“You too!” Dean calls out. Cas waves over his shoulder, getting into his vehicle. Dean stands on the curb and watches as the other man drives out onto the street, keeps looking until the Cadillac turns the corner and disappears from sight.

Dean smiles to himself at the thought of seeing Cas again. Soon, if he has any say in it. He sighs as he slides into Baby’s front seat, flicking on the radio. He had it _bad _already.


End file.
